ow the truth of the matter. The payment of Jos's annuity was
still regular, but it was a money-lender in the City who was receiving
it: old Sedley had sold it for a sum of money wherewith to prosecute
his bootless schemes. Emmy was calculating eagerly the time that would
elapse before the letter would arrive and be answered. She had written
down the date in her pocket-book of the day when she dispatched it. To
her son's guardian, the good Major at Madras, she had not communicated
any of her griefs and perplexities. She had not written to him since
she wrote to congratulate him on his approaching marriage. She thought
with sickening despondency, that that friend--the only one, the one who
had felt such a regard for her--was fallen away.

One day, when things had come to a very bad pass--when the creditors
were pressing, the mother in hysteric grief, the father in more than
usual gloom, the inmates of the family avoiding each other, each
secretly oppressed with his private unhappiness and notion of
wrong--the father and daughter happened to be left alone together, and
Amelia thought to comfort her father by telling him what she had done.
She had written to Joseph--an answer must come in three or four months.
He was always generous, though careless. He could not refuse, when he
knew how straitened were the circumstances of his parents.

Then the poor old gentleman revealed the whole truth to her--that his
son was still paying the annuity, which his own imprudence had flung
away. He had not dared to tell it sooner. He thought Amelia's ghastly
and terrified look, when, with a trembling, miserable voice he made the
confession, conveyed reproaches to him for his concealment. "Ah!" said
he with quivering lips and turning away, "you despise your old father
now!"

"Oh, papa! it is not that," Amelia cried out, falling on his neck and
kissing him many times. "You are always good and kind. You did it for
the best. It is not for the money--it is--my God! my God! have mercy
upon me, and give me strength to bear this trial"; and she kissed him
again wildly and went away.

Still the father did not know what that explanation meant, and the
burst of anguish with which the poor girl left him. It was that she
was conquered. The sentence was passed. The child must go from
her--to others--to forget her. Her heart and her treasure--her joy,
hope, love, worship--her God, almost! She must give him up, and
then--and then sh